


Vínculo

by sinnermon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnermon/pseuds/sinnermon
Summary: Gabriel makes a family wherever he goes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS > KUDOS ! \-- ao3 didnt feel like keeping this together so: ORIGINAL COMIC BY avaruuskala on tumblr!!! [ http://avaruuskala.tumblr.com/post/157095120869/i-needed-to-get-this-out-of-my-head-edgelord ] dialogue at the end wholeheartedly belongs to the comic, give them a follow for their incredible work!!!!

Gabriel had a family at one point, or rather several at several points. His first was in Los Angeles. A mother, father, three sisters, a brother- the Reyes family. They weren’t necessarily happy, but they were a family. Sure, his parents fought on the more than one occasion, and his sister could never really make amends with their father, but they survived. Every night, Gabriel could come home to his mother’s warm hugs, his father’s well-intentioned scoldings, and noogies from each sibling.

  
Until the Crisis, he had them. He joined the military at seventeen, despite his mother’s worries, and got endless praise from his father for his decision. Even after he joined the Enhancement Program, he wrote them letters every week, and they responded. When the Crisis hit, the letters came less frequently. They assured Gabriel that the family was still alive, that nothing had gotten too bad yet, and one day, the last letter came.

  
It was on tattered, stained paper. The kind his mother didn’t use for even her worst enemies. And Gabriel knew it was the last of their communications. He hated his ability to be right.

  
Overwatch became his second family. Ana, Fareeha, Jack, Reinhardt, and Torbjorn, at first. They expanded to include Jesse and Angela, and then, closed off again to exclude Gabriel, after he joined Blackwatch.

  
Blackwatch was his third, and nestled in it, was his fourth- him and Jesse. Jesse was aimless and angry. The perfect candidate for Overwatch to mold him into their new poster child- an orphan who became dedicated to “saving” the world. Gabriel had no choice but to rescue him from the marketing department’s deluded savior fantasies. He had to protect him from people who wanted to use a broken, damaged kid for their own gain.

  
The explosion had gotten him, Gabriel was sure of it. Jesse had grown significantly since first joining, but he wasn’t like Gabriel, who’d always been well-built. If Gabriel was down, Jesse had to be too. That hurt worse than the impact.

  
Recovering from the explosion physically was an arduous task, and mentally, there was no state of being “well.” There was guilt, there was anger, there was a dreadful feeling of mourning. He watched his memorial from the tiny, grainy TV set up in the makeshift infirmary Angela had established. Jesse was there, minus an arm. Fareeha was there, minus a mother. They collapsed onto each other, wrapped into a big, bone-crushing hug by Reinhardt.

  
Anger killed the work of Angela’s nanobiotic tech. He hated sitting idle, watching the interviews as the news stations recycled them endlessly. Everyone who had forced him to the edge of Overwatch’s ranks, into big, bad Blackwatch, had such kind things to say about him.

  
So, he stopped sitting, and joined his fifth “family.” Talon had none of the warmth of his previous families, but the conglomeration of people dedicated to him and the intel he had was enough to make it seem like there was something more than mere blind worship.  
Worship gave him a team. Talon’s leaders were so excited to see a former Overwatch agent, classified information and all, they granted him free reign over choosing his squad. Gabriel selected a handful of grunts, and two of the stars.

  
He was familiar with Widowmaker, her husband had helped the movement to make Blackwatch miserable. When they found Gerard’s body, it was initially suspected that Gabriel had killed him, and all his groupies, the ones who fought to get the ugliest missions thrown to Blackwatch, became so severely malicious it was impossible for Gabriel to open his mouth in a meeting.

  
She held none of these memories. Only glared at him with empty amber eyes, a true husk of her former socialite self. There was no aim to please every Overwatch beneficiary anymore, just to catch them in her sights.

  
Gabriel is also familiar with Sombra, though less so than Widowmaker. Overwatch had busted Los Muertos once, the same year they got Deadlock, thanks to shared contacts between the gangs and informants willing to sell their souls for some freedom. Sombra was ten.

  
According to procedure, Gabriel was forced to offer her cookies and juice, before requesting information on her parents. She laughed at him, and Gabriel had no understanding of why Overwatch regarded this little girl so dangerous she had to be in the same type of locked cell as the gang’s ringleaders.

  
Unsurprisingly, she enjoyed her imprisonment. Sombra revelled in the attention of the social workers, and scarfed down every hot meal like it'd be her last. Gabriel hoped she'd have a million more.

  
The conversation of a foster family came up, and it panicked Sombra. She stopped going so eagerly to the social workers, and rejected food in a child’s hunger strike, though she relented for some animal crackers. Gabriel had to talk to her. The higher-ups wouldn’t touch a criminal like her. They'd take pictures with her and say they'd turned her life around, but they wouldn't even look at her.

  
Sombra had a visitation lined up, several days after her arrival at the base. A woman in Texas wanted to take her in, but Sombra didn't want anyone but Los Muertos.

  
Gabriel had to prepare her. He brought a frilly purple dress, black Mary Janes, and a child’s etiquette book. Far outside his pay, he thought.

  
The door had been left ajar, and the security panel was still glitching when he arrived. Sombra’s food stockpile she’d made under her bed was gone, and so was she, without a trace.

 

Sombra is almost the same as she was twenty years ago. Like at a family reunion, Gabriel gives her a good sizing up. She's grown, but not by much, and only upward. Even after all this time, she's still scrawny and skinny, her childhood on the street apparent.

  
At dinner, she eats like she used to. Shoves as much food in her mouth as she can, and curls protectively around her dinner as though it'll be stolen. Nobody dares to try and take from her plate, aside from Widowmaker, but she's got unspoken permission to do just about anything she likes.

  
They're some of the oldest at the base, at thirty and thirty-three, so they make good partners. Talon goes through agents quickly, few live to see their twenty-fifth birthday. Every agent is expendable, but not those two.  
Widowmaker is a cookie-cutter Talon agent, as defined by her programming. She feels no remorse, and has no reservations. Gabriel likes having her on missions, they work incredibly well together. If he says shoot, Widowmaker only asks where. Her aim is impeccable, and she can predict every aspect of a shot, right down to how it'll sway in the wind.

  
Gabriel likes a predictable agent.

  
Even though Sombra is less certain than Widowmaker, Gabriel finds her easy to work with. She's more erratic, more empathetic, but she'll do what she's told. There's a touch of hesitation sometimes, but she'll do it.

  
Gabriel likes an eager-to-please agent.

 

“Come out for drinks with us after this.” Sombra insists.

  
The transport is cold, and everyone’s sullen. A mission like this puts dread in everyone, except for Sombra.

  
“No.” Gabriel grunts.

  
When they land, Sombra is getting antsy. She shifts from one leg to the other, tests the capabilities of her tech. Temporarily satisfied, she groups up like Gabriel’s been asking her to for the past few minutes.

  
“Sombra. You’re responsible for finding whatever they’re hiding.” She yawns, and Gabriel frowns, “Take this seriously. I don’t need careless agents getting shot.”

  
Sombra rolls her eyes and plays with her fingertips, getting them warmed up for the mission ahead. Gabriel hands out orders, and everybody seems eager to recieve them.

  
Finally, Gabriel orders them to position.

  
His team is a good one. Widowmaker has been ready since the night before, and Sombra is already making her way to the target. All the rest of them are in position, ready to divert and attack. With complete certainty, Gabriel knows this’ll go off without a hitch.

 

He joins Sombra after five minutes, at the base of the tower they’re intended to break into. It’s crawling with an amalgam of security forces- Helix, and a few local firms. Gabriel vaporizes his form, and snakes behind the two guards set at the door. Lingering in smoke form, he waits for Sombra to disable the cameras, before he snaps their necks.

  
Sombra gets to work on the series of entry passwords, opening the three doors that bar them from entry. Gabriel goes through, takes out two Helix workers, and gives the go-ahead for Sombra to follow.

  
As they prowl the buildings floor, Sombra’s anxieties rise again. To keep safe, she tosses a translocator at the end of the hall as they walk towards the central control room, where their target lies. Helix’s guards stand steadfastly at the door, and Sombra takes her shot this time.  
Once they’re down, Sombra gets to work on the door. Gabriel keeps an eye out, his back to her, but he can hear the small curses she keeps spitting out.

  
“What is it?” He demands.

  
“They’ve got, like, five layers of blockages on this thing! Ugh, this is such a waste of time...” Sombra groans, typing rapidly into the keypad. Eventually, the pad buzzes, and the door whooshes open. “There.”

  
They make short work of gathering the intel. Sombra completely raids the filing cabinets and empties out every drawer. Quickly, the place is trashed, and they carry thick stacks of files and holopads.

  
“Sombra. Put in the request for extraction.” Gabriel demands, as they walk down the hall again. Almost every guard in the building has been mangled or massacred, they’ve got no reason to rush.

  
Speaking rapidly into her earpiece, Sombra flips through files, earning a whack on the hand from Gabriel. They stop for a moment in the main room of the floor, as Sombra says the communication will be lost should they go any further. She finishes her message to Widowmaker, and they start forward again.  
The footsteps become hidden in their own, but the voice echoes through the room.

  
“Reaper!”

 

Ana Amari’s ghost stands before them. Fareeha looks so much like her that it’s impossible not to think her a carbon copy. The tattoo only accentuates their likeness.

  
“Take off the mask.” She growls, the butt of her rifle pressed tight against her shoulder, “I’ll give you ten seconds.”

  
Her hair is kept neat in a bun, out of her face and out of trouble. Wearing the same fatigues as everybody else in Helix, with the same bright insignia on her chest, Fareeha looks like her childhood drawings. She’s achieved her dreams- the ones that Gabriel always encouraged her to pursue. Even when Ana said no, Gabriel told her yes. That she should fight the evil in the world, and bring justice to fruition.

  
“Nine.”

  
She doesn’t hold any hesitation. Maybe, she’ll be offered a raise for discovering the identity of the infamous Reaper. Maybe, she’s on her own mission, not a Helix endorsed one.

  
“Eight.”

  
Both her hands are steady, and her jaw is set. It’s as if she’s practiced. As if she’s waited for this moment for a while.

  
“Seven.”

  
There’s no shakiness in her stance. She doesn’t flit the rifle between Gabriel and Sombra, she keeps it trained on him.

  
“Six.”

  
She knows what she wants.

  
“Five.”

  
Fareeha’s finger slides over the trigger, and she licks her lips, like Ana did, before a good shot.

  
“Four.”

  
If she was playing before, she sure isn’t now.

  
“Three.”

  
Gabriel could easily dissipate his form and go off hiding. But Fareeha will only chase, and he knows this.

  
“Two.”

  
He considers lifting his mask, but she’ll do it for him, once he’s dead.

  
“One.”

 

 

In a flash, Sombra’s form pixelates. Fareeha’s finger clenches on the trigger, and she fires into the wall, almost in perfect sync with Sombra’s gun. The bullet hits her square in the shoulder blades, and Fareeha lunges forward, face panicked. She cries out, but doesn't topple.

  
The shell is caught in a bulletproof vest, and Fareeha takes the next moment to whirl around and shoot at Sombra. She manages a hit directly to the chest, and another in the stomach.

  
Gabriel snaps out of his daze and fires. He gets three shots in Fareeha’s left leg, and another right on her hip. It’s the second that sends her tumbling to the ground, but he knows an Amari.

  
An Amari will stand even when their legs have been sawed off.

  
But Sombra is not an Amari, and she lies there, writhing as Fareeha drags herself towards Sombra’s gun. It's better than her standard rifle. Her hand reaches out, and Gabriel sends a bullet through it.

  
She lets out a painful howl, before curling in on herself and gasping painfully. Gabriel steps past her, and grabs Sombra by the arm.

  
“Stand up.” He orders, and she shakes her head.

  
“It hurts.” Sombra manages to moan, before resting against the tile floor again, “I can't.”

  
Fareeha is already back to moving again. He hasn't taken any life-threatening shots yet, and she’s resilient. She doesn't reach for a weapon this time, just squirms and groans, trying to collect up her strength. Gabriel shoves her aside with the heel of his boot, making enough room for him to drop down and lift Sombra up into his arms. He remembers doing this for Fareeha when she got cuts up and down her legs, playing war with Jesse.

  
“Requesting backup. I'm down, targets are escaping.” Fareeha is heard grunting into her earpiece, trying to get herself up from the floor. Occupied with trying to rise, she fails to prevent Gabriel from going right around her, hurrying off to the exit.

  
“Don't run, don't run.” Sombra pants, clutching her wounds, the blood oozing from between her fingers. “It hurts worse.”

  
“Either I run, and it hurts worse, or I walk, and the next round of bullets hurt worse.” Gabriel snaps.

  
Now, Sombra goes quiet. She buries her face in his chest, and Gabriel adjusts his hand to rest on her back, in a vague attempt at soothing her. Clunky footsteps come from the base and top of the stairwell, and Gabriel feels more trapped than ever before.

  
There's so much pressure in this moment. He could evaporate, and leave Sombra here, while he retreats. But Sombra has value to him, not only in terms of manpower, but now emotionally.

  
So, he ducks into an archway, stepping over corpses they've left to reach an enclave, and prays they won't hear Sombra’s weak, muffled tears.

  
Helix’s personnel are stupid enough to pass them by, and Gabriel lets Sombra take a few gulping breaths before they move on. As they continue down the stairs, he hears Fareeha’s yelling- no, her commanding. Now, she has power, and she can order a team back down the stairwell. She loses no arguments.

  
If she can, she will lose no targets.

  
“Sombra. Are you with me?”

  
“Yes.” She manages, after a few gut-wrenching moments.

  
“How’s your pain?”

  
“Painful.”

 

 

Field medics are unheard of in Talon. Those who are inexperienced enough to be shot must may the price of their errors. Those who are skilled do not get shot.

  
Sombra had made no error. Her skill had played no part in what she had done, only her emotions.

  
Gabriel uses what he knows to keep her as stable as he can on the ride back. Widowmaker connects with headquarters and lets them know to bring a stretcher to the hangar.

  
“Sombra. Stay awake.” He tells her, pressing a cloth to the gaping hole in her chest. It's the size of a quarter, but it's so unnatural in its being there that it's almost a dinner plate in his eyes.

  
“I am.” Sombra murmurs, her voice dopey. While the initial hurt has worn off, the blood loss is taking hold, and she stares blankly at the agents on the bench opposite them. The transport is small and cramped, they can't have any privacy.

  
“I saw your eyes closing.” Gabriel counters.

  
“No, you didn't.”

  
“I did.”

  
“No.”

  
He lets her win both the argument and a moment of rest, before he tells her again to keep awake. Sombra’s eyes flicker around the transport, though they're dull and dimming.

  
“You can sleep when they get you stitched up.” Gabriel insists, taking a fresh cloth from a grunt.

  
Whining, Sombra closes her eyes, but opens them suddenly when Gabriel presses only slightly too hard on a wound.

  
“That was on purpose.” She snarls.

  
“No, it wasn't.”

 

 

Sombra is an asset. A pain, but still an asset. Gabriel supposes this is why the medics give her the royal treatment. They speak in hushed tones as the anesthetic wears off, and a nurse offers her a variety of painkillers, while another brings Sombra a cup full of ice. Lying on the cot, bandaged up delicately, Sombra looks pleased with the attention.

  
Gabriel hangs back, staring through the crack in the door. She's got enough people hovering around her, he doesn't need to overwhelm her- if there's a way to overwhelm Sombra.

 

 

Widowmaker says that she's been asking for him. It's been three days since, and the nurses are still hesitant to let Sombra rush her recovery, keeping her cooped up in the medical wing.

  
“She is bored, and creating problems.” Widowmaker says, polishing the barrel of her rifle. It's shiny enough to show her irritated reflection, but she's not satisfied.

  
Gabriel looks up from the ammunition he's sorting. He's been purposefully avoiding the medical wing. Since the first time they worked together, Sombra’s led to something strange building him, and now, he understands it, and he fears it.

  
He feels caring.

  
Every time she darts out into the field, his heart seizes up. When Sombra’s gun jams, he stops moving, and has the instinct to loan her a shotgun. And when she gets going again, he lets out a breath.

  
Sombra has worked her way into his heart, and he fears allowing her anymore room.

  
“I'll see her tonight.” He promises.

 

 

The room is all white and beige, contrasted by Sombra lying on the cot. She's staring at the wall, her face expressionless. The IVs are pumping some kind of pain medication into her, and Gabriel can assume that's what's making her look so serene. For a while, she doesn't notice him. All she does is stare off into space, her eyelids occasionally fluttering.

  
“Sombra.” He says, trying not to sound angry, but he does. It's almost instinctive, he only calls her name when she's messing something up.

  
Her head turns, and she smiles. “Oh, hey.”

  
Gabriel hasn't done this in a while, he hasn't cared about anyone enough to visit them in medical. The protocol is foreign to him, so he sits. He did this with Ana, Jesse, even Fareeha, after she had her appendix taken out when she was twelve. It's a flood of memories, but he tries his hardest to resist emotional responses.

  
“Still alive, I see.”

  
Giving him a lazy thumbs-up, she smiles. “Still alive.”

  
“Dangerous stunt you pulled there.” He's trying not to sound too fatherly in his scolding, but he does.

  
Sombra starts to shrug, but stops with a wince. The bandage across her chest is barely visible from beneath her hospital gown, but it gives Gabriel a sting. He should've stopped her from doing something risk. Easily, he could've taken Fareeha’s shot, instead of letting Sombra deal with his consequences.

  
“Was worth it, buddy.” She murmurs.

  
He knows it wasn't, and she seems to know too, glaring at Gabriel with such intent, focused eyes. For a moment, he thinks about leaving. But if Sombra will take a bullet for him, he’ll at least listen to her fury.

  
But her words aren't angry. They're gentle, asking, “Hey, Gabe, want to do something for me?”

  
“What?”

  
“Show me your face.” Curiosity seeps into her voice, and her eyes are lit up like Christmas trees. Gabriel stalls, but he has no reason to. Sombra doesn't know his face, he didn't raise her like he did Fareeha. She was too young to remember his features, and even if she had an inkling of an idea, he's a monster now. Only those who have his face etched into their minds can match his appearance to their memory. “I saved your ass, satisfy my curiosity.”

  
Carefully, he raises a hand to the base of his mask. Sombra lets out a little “wow,” but she doesn't stop there.

  
“Really? Did me getting shot in the guts finally bring out your soft side?”

  
“Watch it. I can still change my mind.” Gabriel cautions.

  
Giggling, Sombra apologizes. He lifts the mask completely, and a few smoke tendrils escape. Sombra’s face drops, and she looks exactly like when they had first met. Taking in every element of his form, trying to comprehend.

  
“Looks painful.” She muses, “The extra eye is really cool, though.”

  
Gabriel cracks a smile at that. It's a rare one, and it feels even more unusual than the caring he has for Sombra. “Right.”

  
At the sight of his smile, Sombra mirrors it. She reaches her hand up, and lands her finger on his nose. Despite everything about his face, she doesn't recoil. Just smiles, before pulling back and sighing contentedly.

  
“Thanks for dropping by, Gabe.”


End file.
